


Women and little children keep the world turning

by turnitintolove



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/F, I promise, Peggy learns a little more about Angie, brief mentions of past physical child abuse, but it all ends up being okay, just a lil back story, this is not an angsty one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4375346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnitintolove/pseuds/turnitintolove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy learns about Angie's past when Angie's Ma invites them over to dinner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Women and little children keep the world turning

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea that maybe Angie was adopted. And then this happened. Title comes from the musical Doctor Zhivago. (the lyric is actually "Women, children keep the world turning" but I also used the title of the song which is "Women and Little Children" and now you know something super useless)

“Hey Peg?”  Angie’s voice is quiet when she comes back into the study.

 

Peggy responds with a hum, turning the page of her novel and shifting her legs to allow Angie more room to sit.

 

“Would you maybe want to come with me to dinner on Sunday?  My Ma called and she wants to meet you.”  Angie sounds nervous in a way that Peggy hasn’t heard before.  She’s quiet and incredibly still.

 

Peggy puts her book down to watch the way Angie stares at her, “I would love to.”  She sees the way that Angie’s body relaxes just the smallest bit, “Should we bring anything?”

 

“Nah, she cooks enough food to feed the block.” Angie shrugs her shoulders and relaxes completely into the sofa, leaning on her side to wrap her arms around Peggy’s body.

 

xxx

 

When Sunday rolls around, Peggy is surprised to find that Angie takes her to a brownstone in Harlem.  What surprises Peggy even more is that the door is answered by none other than Gabe Jones.

 

“Peggy?”  He stands in the doorway staring between Angie and Peggy.

 

“Gabe?”  Peggy stares back, her hand holding a bouquet of flowers falling to her side.

 

“You two know each other?”  Angie states from the side.  “You gonna let us in?  It ain’t getting any warmer out here.”  Angie wraps her coat a little tighter around herself to emphasize her point.

 

“Yeah, sorry pipsqueak, come on in.” Gabe shakes his head and stands to the side, holding the heavy door open and allowing them to pass into the warmth of the house.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you stop calling me that?”  Angie huffs, taking off her coat and hanging it on the rack in the hallway.  She helps Peggy out of hers, ignoring the way that Peggy sweeps the house with her eyes.

 

“You still do this?”  He pokes her just under her ribs and Angie lets out a high-pitched yelp that Peggy has never heard before.

 

She watches as Angie bats his hands away, “I’m going to tell Ma you’re picking on me.”  Angie pulls him into a tight hug, “I’ve missed you Uncle Gabe.”

 

“Please stop calling me Uncle.”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m not even your uncle.”  He sighs like this has been an ongoing debate, knowing Angie, it probably is.

 

Peggy raises her eyebrows, _Uncle?_   She’s realizing that she isn’t the only one with secrets.  She doesn’t think she can be surprised anymore until a kind looking black woman somewhere in her 40’s comes into the hallway.

 

“So you just going to stand in the hallway and not come say hi?  Didn’t I raise you better than that?”  She looks stern for just a moment until her face lights up with a smile not unlike Angie’s.

 

“Hi Ma.”  Angie allows herself to be wrapped up in a tight hug, eyes closing at the feeling of being home.

 

“Hi babygirl.”  She presses a kiss to the top of Angie’s head before holding her out to look at her.  “Now introduce me to your friend.”

 

“Ma, this is Peggy Carter.  Pegs, this is my Ma.”

 

“It is nice to meet you Peggy Carter, I’m Sarah.” She takes Peggy’s hand and Peggy isn’t at all surprised to feel the strength there.

 

“It is lovely to meet you.”  She squeezes her hand back, “These are for you.” She presents the bouquet of flowers and breathes a sigh of relief when Sarah’s eyes light up at them.

 

“You didn’t have to bring these, but they are beautiful.  Angie, go put these in water.”  She breathes in the smell of the fresh flowers and hand hands them gently to Angie who disappears behind her. “You going to introduce yourself, or are you going to stand there like a dud?”  She glares at Gabe, resting her hands on her hips.  It takes Peggy by surprise, that Angie can look so much like a woman she bares no genetic relation to.

 

“But I already know her!”  Gabe whines in a way that Peggy has never heard.

 

“What do you mean you already know her?” Sarah does not believe him for a second.

 

“This is Peggy Carter.  THE Peggy Carter.  From the 107th.”

 

“Angie’s Peggy is the same as your Peggy? But you said your Peggy liked to rough it out with the men.  You telling me this pretty thing is the same one who threw a grenade at you?”

 

“It wasn’t a live one.”  Peggy says, in case she’s angered by the story.

 

“You threw a grenade at him?” Peggy jumps at Angie’s voice, she hadn’t heard her come back into the room.  “What did you do to deserve that?”

 

“Who says I did anything?”  Gabe straightens his back and shoves his hands into his pockets as all three women stare at him.

 

“Well, dinner’s just about ready. Why don’t you tell us what you didn’t do to deserve a grenade thrown at you while we eat?”  Sarah leads them into another room with what looks like a well-loved dining table and a set of mismatched chairs.  It’s a nice change to the ornate furniture from their penthouse.

 

When Sarah and Angie lay the table, Peggy’s mouth waters at the sight of a traditional Sunday roast.  Something she hasn’t had in years.  “This smells incredible.”

 

“Just wait until you taste it, English. She taught me everything I know.” Angie smiles, sitting close to Peggy and sliding a plate of steamed vegetables towards her.

 

“I only helped guide this girl. She can make just about anything as long as she can smell it first.”  She nods to Angie and smiles, “It was the cakes she couldn’t do. Can’t smell portions, just the sugar.”

 

Peggy suddenly has the image of a much younger Angie standing in the kitchen, surrounded by and covered in sugar. “That image you have, it’s probably right.”  Gabe laughs. “I came home one day after school and the kitchen was covered in flour and sugar and this one standing in the middle of it.”

 

Angie blushes lightly, “I got better at it.”

 

Dinner is mostly filled with questions for Peggy, and because of her history with Gabe she doesn’t feel the need to lie. Sarah laughs and gasps at the right moments in all of her stories and smiles at the way Peggy talks about Angie. It isn’t until after dinner, while Angie and Gabe clear the table and the dishes does Peggy ask.

 

“I don’t mean to be rude, and please tell me if I am, but how did Angie come to be a part of your family?” Peggy holds the glass of brandy gently between her hands while Sarah studies her.

 

“My late husband and I couldn’t have children of our own.  Try as we might, it just wasn’t meant to be.  Gabe moved in with us when he was ten.  My brother-in-law and his wife died in a building fire.  So it was just the three of us for about two years.”  She pauses, listening to Angie and Gabe sing along to the radio in the kitchen.  “An old friend of mine knew about our troubles in trying to have a baby and called me up from the hospital where she was a nurse.  Said a little girl was brought in, taken out of her foster home and was needing a safe place to stay.  Would I be interested in looking after her while they did the paperwork?”

 

She pauses in her story when she hears Angie squeal and the sound of a wet rag snapping against Gabe’s leg.  She chuckles and sips at her own drink.

 

“When the social worker brought her the next morning, that girl was black and blue.  Wouldn’t look me in the eye and was shaking like a leaf.  Five years old and already terrified of life. Social worker told me she had been given up at birth; young, unmarried, probably Catholic mother. Only thing she gave her was life and a name.”

 

_“What’s your name babygirl?”  Of course she knows her name.  Angela Martinelli, her file says.  Born September 5 th, 1920._

_Angela doesn’t answer.  She stands with her small arms wrapped tightly around herself, staring holes into the ground._

_“Well, my name is Sarah.”  There’s no response, but she wasn’t really expecting one.  She can tell that this little girl doesn’t trust easily. Her tiny frame shakes with a fear that breaks Sarah’s heart.  “Why don’t we go upstairs and I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep?”_

_She doesn’t miss the way Angela flinches and winces in pain when Sarah gently rests her hand on her back to guide towards the stairs._

_When Angela stands in the guest room and stares at the bed, she speaks for the first time in a small voice, “Do I hafta share?”_

_Sarah sighs, “No babygirl.  It’s all yours.” She watches Angela’s face as she takes in the room.  It isn’t their biggest room, but it is certainly big enough for a little girl who doesn’t take up much space.  “How does a bath sound? And then we’ll find you something to eat?”_

_Angela doesn’t say anything, but she allows herself to be led into the bathroom across the hall.  Sarah begins to fill the tub with warm water and helps the little girl out of her dirty and too large clothes.  When she sees the bruises and welts that cover most of her, she has to bite back her own tears. She doesn’t realize just how small she is until she sees how little room she takes up in the bathtub, staring at her toes stretched out in front of her._

_She makes sure to be gentle as she runs the soapy cloth over her bruises and welts, apologizing when Angela winces or yelps when she’s reached a particularly tender area. Once her hair has been cleaned and combed through, it falls in long, damp ringlets the color of honey. Sarah is quiet as she helps Angela to step out of the tub and be wrapped into a towel that falls around her like a cape. She gives her what she hopes is a calming smile, and is surprised when she feels a small hand on her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized was there._

_In that moment, she knows that this little girl isn’t going anywhere._

_None of the clothes that came in her small bag are clean or look like they actually fit her. Instead, Sarah finds and old pajama set of Gabe’s until she can find her something more suitable. When she sits her at the kitchen table, Angela’s face barely pokes over the edge, her feet dangling from the height of the chair, and again she is struck by just how small she is. She wonders how someone so small can have already learned how cruel the world can be._

_“How does a peanut butter and jelly sandwich sound?”  Sarah makes her voice lighter, leaning over the table to watch Angela pull at a loose thread on her sleeve._

_“Okay.” She shrugs a shoulder, not looking at Sarah anymore.  Her nervous shaking has returned._

_Within minutes, Sarah has a sandwich cut into triangles and a glass of milk set in front of her. She watches Angela’s eyes dart to the side before she takes a triangle and then a small bite. It takes her a while to chew through the pieces, and Sarah realizes her slowness is most likely caused by the darkening bruise along her jawline._

_“Is this too hard to eat?  I can make you something else.”  She sits in the chair next to her and doesn’t miss the way she shifts away slightly. “I’m not going to hurt you. No one here is going to hurt you.” Angela nods her head, but still doesn’t look up at Sarah.  “Now, is this too hard to eat?  I can make you something less chewy.”_

_“Yes, please.” She reaches instead for the large glass of milk in front of her, holding it carefully between her small hands while Sarah takes the plate to the counter, looking for something easier for the little girl to eat._

_When she hears the sound of glass breaking against the floor, she turns around and finds Angela staring at the spreading puddle of milk, her small frame already shaking harder than it was before._

_“I’m sorry!” She squeaks out, her eyes glassy with tears, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.  It was an accident.  I’m sorry.”_

_Sarah steps around the glass and milk while she hears Angela’s ragged apologies, “It’s okay babygirl, it’s just a glass.”  She tries to ignore the way she flinches when she bends down to scoop her off of the chair and take her into the adjoining living room, sitting them both on the sofa. “It’s okay Angela, it’s okay. I’m not mad.”_

_“I’m sorry.” Angela’s apologies are whispers interspersed with hiccoughs and sniffles._

_“I know you are, but it was an accident.  I should have given you a smaller glass.  See, it’s my fault too.”  She brushes her fingers through her damp hair, trying to sooth Angela’s panic._

_“But I broke it.”_

_“And I gave you a glass too big for your little hands.  Next time I’ll give you a better glass.  Okay?”_

_She doesn’t respond, but she nods her head against Sarah’s chest where she’s starting to relax. Sarah lets her slowly relax against her, ear pressed against her breastbone where she can hear the steady rhythm of Sarah’s heart beating.  In moments, she’s fast asleep against her, one hand clutching the fabric of Sarah’s dress as she sucks her thumb into her mouth._

_Her husband and Gabe come home an hour later, calling into the house to announce their arrival from work and school.  She can hear them in the entryway and the kitchen, pausing to wonder at the broken glass before coming into the living room.  They stop in the doorway, taking in the little girl asleep and clinging to Sarah on the sofa._

_Edward steps in and drops to his knees, brushing a stray curl from Angela’s face so he can see her. He had agreed to taking in the little girl almost as fast as Sarah had, and now that he sees her face, he’s confident he made the right choice.  “This little angel our guest?”_

_“Her name is Angela.”  Sarah whispers, dropping a kiss to the top of her head._

_“How about Gabe and I get dinner started?”  He stands and then kisses his wife, watching the way she holds the little girl asleep on top of her._

_“Something easy to chew.”  She tells him._

_When she wakes Angela a little while later, she startles and forgets where she is. It takes a little coaxing to bring her back into the kitchen where she sees two new strangers. She hides behind Sarah’s legs, clutching at her skirt._

_“Angela, this is my husband Edward and our nephew Gabe.  This is Angela.”_

_Edward wipes his hands on a dishtowel and kneels in front of his wife, peering around her legs to give the little girl a big smile.  He talks to her in an excited but gentle voice, “Hi Angela, it is very nice to meet you.” He sticks out his hand for her to shake, but pulls it back slowly when she takes a step away from him. “No one here is going to hurt you, I can promise you that.”_

_Gabe, tall and lanky at 13 gives Angela a goofy smile when she peers at him. He gives her a small wave and sticks his tongue out, making her smile for the first time._

_When they sit down to eat the soup Edward made, Sarah pulls Angela onto her lap so she can reach the table.  She eats with one hand holding her steady, mindful of the tender bruises that cover her._

_“Looks like we need to pick up and apple box for someone to sit on.”  Edward points out._

_“That sounds like a good plan.  Then someone will be able to see over the table.”  Sarah smiles, watching the way Angela is extra careful with the smaller glass of milk in her hands._

_What startles her is the small giggle she hears.  Both adults look up to see Gabe making silly faces at Angela. Her giggles are quiet, but they fill the kitchen with a light they’d both been missing._

_The four of them retire to the living room once the kitchen has been cleared away. Edward sits with the evening newspaper; Sarah sits by the radio to watch Angela as she watches Gabe pull out his homework.  She takes in his notebooks, pencils, and various books from his classes.  A smile blossoms on her face when Angela picks up one of the plays for his English class and tries to read it, upside down. Gabe looks up and flips the book for her. She turns the page of the book whenever he does.  A little mimic._

_By the time eight o’clock comes around, little Angela has fallen asleep on the floor, head resting on the script she had been playing with. Sarah smiles and scoops her up, feeling the way her warmth rests against her body as she sleeps. She’s light in her arms, even as she slowly makes her way up the stairs and into the guest bedroom they had cleaned out for her the day before._

_Angela curls onto her side as soon as she’s put down, letting out a small sigh at the feeling of being tucked into the warm blankets.  Sarah brushes her hair out of her face, “You’re going to be just fine babygirl.”  She kisses Angela’s forehead before turning off the light and leaving the door cracked open._

_Several hours later, when the lights have all been turned off and everyone else has retired to bed, Angela startles awake.  Unaware of the room that she’s in.  She’s forgotten where she is and how she got there.  She’s in a bed, alone, something she’s never experienced. At her small cry of despair, two sets of worried feet rush into the room._

_“It’s okay, you’re okay.”  Sarah rushes to her side and holds her close._

_“You have a bad dream, little one?”  Edward kneels down in front of her and wipes away her tears with his thumb._

_Angela only nods._

_“Would you feel better if you stayed with us tonight?”  He whispers.  When she nods again, he gives her a calming smile.  “Let’s get you tucked in again.”_

_The two of them lead her by the hands into their own room, where they tuck her safely between the two of them._

“Took her a few weeks to stop waking up in the middle of the night.  Once she found Gabe’s room, we would find her snuggled up with him.  Her own giant teddy bear.”

 

Peggy smiles, though there’s a sadness behind her eyes. “Has she ever wondered about her birth mother?”

 

“Not really.  She learned pretty young when she wasn’t wanted.  Made her adjusting to us a little hard.”

 

_“I know a brush off when I see it.”_

“She’s incredibly lucky to have such a loving family.” Peggy smiles again, taking in the photos that line the wall behind Sarah.  Angie in a church dress next to Gabe, fishing with her father, holding a lopsided cake with a grin that is missing two teeth.  Her entire history is framed on these walls.

 

“I consider myself to be the lucky one. The day I opened that door to see her standing there was one of the best days of my life.” Sarah smiles again, this time wider as Angie and Gabe walk into the room holding their own glasses of brandy.

 

“You two been talking about me behind my back?” Angie smiles, sitting next to Peggy and bumping her shoulder.

 

“I was just about to tell Peggy here about the time you got chicken pox.”

 

“Oh no.  Please don’t.”  Angie shakes her head, her cheeks already blushing.

 

“You mean you don’t want Agent Peggy Carter of the 107th to know that you covered yourself in batter because you thought we were going to fry you?”  Gabe grins.

 

Peggy snorts into her drink.

 

“You were the one who told my I was going to turn into a chicken.”

 

“Your fault for believing me.” He shrugs.

 

“I was six.”  Angie glares.

 

“Good lord that mess was awful.” Sarah remembers.

 

They spend the rest of the night laughing, Peggy feels a warmth in Angie’s childhood home that she hasn’t felt in years. It makes her ache for her own family in a new and surprising way.

 

“Ma really likes you.”  Angie tells her as they walk into their building.

 

“She’s a wonderful woman.”  Peggy smiles at her.  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”  She asks, stepping out of the elevator and into their home.

 

Angie shrugs, a little self-conscious. “Sometimes people get funny about it. About who my family is. So I don’t tell people, not unless they matter.  And you, you matter Peggy.”

 

“Thank you, for letting me meet your family.”

 

Angie smiles at her, bright and brilliant. So Peggy kisses her, holding her face gently and brushing her thumbs over her cheekbones.

 

“So is that why you make a face when someone brings up fried chicken?”  Peggy smiles and her, while Angie huffs and tries to pull away.  Only Peggy is laughing and bringing her closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on the tumblr for nerdy things and theatre. jellysnack.tumblr.com


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